


Pragma

by Valor



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Romance, tldr they spoon and its a little gay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-27
Updated: 2020-01-27
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:41:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22432780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Valor/pseuds/Valor
Summary: They’re 25 and 23, and they’ve known each other for nearly their entire lives. But years change a man, and war twists him beyond that; at its end, they don't slot together the same way they used to, effortless and warm.Or: Felix and Sylvain learn how to cuddle all over again, and life goes on.
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 4
Kudos: 132





	Pragma

**Author's Note:**

> i'm running on two hours of sleep and i deadass just spent like 12 hours straight networking w/ people who talk too much but i came home and saw swan tweet about sylvix falling in love again so here is this garbage self-indulgent thing :)
> 
> for swanfrost.

Sylvain is delightfully broad, and Felix is entirely unashamed in the way his fingers skim over strong shoulders, taut biceps. This is fine; there’s just a hair’s breadth between them, and every glance up rewards him with a sweet, languid kiss.

They’re 25 and 23, and they’ve known each other for nearly their entire lives. But years change a man, and war twists him beyond that; at its end, they don't slot together the same way they used to, effortless and warm. (There’s too many jagged edges and rough ends. Sometimes they have different nightmares about the same war, and it isn’t always easy to be there through it all.)

“You’re breathing too hard,” Felix gripes, shifting a little in annoyance. He shimmies lower, trying to avoid the intermittent blow of heat for every time Sylvain breathes out through his nose. He thinks this is fine; Sylvain is tall enough that their legs still comfortably tangle together, and like this, he can almost press his ear against Sylvain’s chest to listen to his heartbeat.

(It’s comforting. There is a world of difference between the sound of a beating heart and the sound of a thousand war drums.)

But then Sylvain shifts, huffing a little as he cranes his head up. “But it makes your hair tickle my face,” he complains. “And I don’t wanna sneeze all over you. That’s gross.”

“Ugh.” So: a problem. It’s a minor one compared to everything else they have to figure out, but it’s these little things that make or break a day. Sylvain kisses him in the hallways when they pass each other by. Felix’s touch lingers on his shoulder when they’re all gathered around the war table, discussing borders and aid. None of these quiet any demons or soothe over fresh scars, but it’s progress in transitioning _you_ and _me_ into _us_. 

Sometimes, it feels like the sun shines just a little brighter for it.

“How about we spoon?” Sylvain suggests. “I wanna be little spoon tonight. I like it when you hold me.”

“Then you’ll be little spoon _every_ night,” Felix points out, but offers no complaint when Sylvain dutifully turns to his side. Felix’s fingers ghost over the jut of a shoulderblade and all the muscles defined around it. Some of Sylvain’s scars, he knows; most of them, he doesn’t. He traces the jagged line of one before he draws Sylvain in and kisses the nape of his neck.

Sylvain grins wide, and lays his hand over Felix’s own. He intertwines their fingers and brings them up for a kiss in retaliation. “Not true. There’s plenty of times I wanna hold you, even if you complain about how hot it gets.”

“It isn’t my fault you’ve always had a high body temperature,” Felix retorts, laying on another kiss.

Sylvain squirms, just a little. “It definitely is.”

“How?” Another.

“Because I’ve always had the hots for you.”

Felix pauses, even though he should’ve expected this from the moment he opened his mouth. As if anticipating his next move, Sylvain holds onto their hands just a little tighter. It’s his laugh that gets Felix to stay.

“I would say I’m kidding, but I’m not! You always did cheer me up the most, you know.”

“Do you always have to bring up the past?” If there’s any annoyance in his tone, it’s a remnant of habit; more important is the way he closes his eyes and leans into Sylvain, letting his lips hover over valleys of muscle. Without thinking, he adds another kiss—and smiles, just a little, when he feels the way it makes Sylvain’s heartbeat _skyrocket_ against his palm.

“...Let’s switch,” Sylvain suddenly says. “I changed my mind from earlier. I need to be the big spoon.”

“No. We’ll be up all night if I let you.” 

“Yeah, because I’m gonna f—”

He contemplates biting, and only decides against it because Sylvain will _inevitably_ claim it as a turn on. So, Felix says instead, “Go to _sleep_ , Gautier. There will be enough time for that in the morning.”

In retrospect, it ends up being a mistake—though maybe it was bound to happen, whether he mentioned anything or not.

Sylvain wakes up earlier than Felix thinks is legal, and instead of quietly slipping out of bed, he insists on gathering Felix into his arms and nuzzling against his neck. At any time other than the crack of dawn, it would be endearing—but the sun’s barely made its way over the horizon, and Felix is entirely unapologetic about elbowing him in the ribs.

Like how they manage their estates, like how their manage their futures, and like how they manage dinner dates and nicknames and sleeping positions, they work on it. Sylvain gets gentler about pulling Felix in, and softer with the kisses he leaves. Felix learns to melt into his warmth, even if he still has trouble falling back asleep after that, and enjoys a peaceful morning for all that it’s worth.

**Author's Note:**

> add me on twitter (@silvergraced) so i can spontaneously combust every time these boys are mentioned, thanks


End file.
